


A Unique Problem...

by yikesola



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: 2014, Depression Recovery, Established Relationship, M/M, radio show
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-09
Updated: 2019-04-09
Packaged: 2020-01-07 03:46:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18402461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yikesola/pseuds/yikesola
Summary: Dan gets a cactus. A rather expensive cactus, because why not spend loads of money on the first living thing he’s purchased since the hamster that abandoned him? And it takes him a while to notice Phil might be a little jealous.A fic about support systems and slow growth.





	A Unique Problem...

It made a certain amount of sense to Dan that managing a houseplant’s health was a good working metaphor for managing his own mental health. A plant needs water, he needs water. A plant needs sunlight, he needs sunlight. A plant needs conversation, he needs conversation. So on, so forth...

And he was actually trying to take care of his mental health these days. Really trying. Proper trying. He’d been running away from it for too long, soaking in the bleak grey patches, lying face down on the hallway carpet for an on-brand Existential Crisis™ far too often, going days feeling _nothing_ , leaving the flat, scaring Phil, hurting Phil, hurting his own chances at happiness. 

No more. He’s trying now— he’s said he can’t handle it alone anymore, and he’s listening to people who want to help him. 

That decision is the first step, his new therapist tells him in one of their earliest sessions. She says that it’s probably the most important step, all things considered. 

But what comes after is a longer journey than all the movie montages ever imply. With ups and downs, draining sessions, moments where Dan truly feels he’s gone mad, tears and tears and tears, most shed on Phil’s shoulder. It’s not flipping a switch, stepping immediately into _wellness_. It’s flipping a switch that turns on a light and you see you’re in a room filled with a 5000 piece puzzle. Get assembling— sort those edge pieces, sort by colour. You’ve got a long way to go. Good thing you aren’t doing it all alone. 

The puzzle metaphor was helpful. It allowed Dan to visualize it. He’s always loved a good metaphor. Ergo, a houseplant. 

Phil had been on the houseplant train long before him, though Phil had also made a brand of being unable to keep them alive. Phil likes that the plants are something to care for, but less responsibility than a child or a pet. Dan wants a houseplant to prove he can care for something even if he can’t always care for himself. And as a reminder that, logically, he can do both. 

So he gets a cactus. A rather expensive cactus, because why not spend loads of money on the first living thing he’s purchased since the hamster that abandoned him? A cactus because they should be hard to kill, right? Surely a London flat is a less hostile environment than a desert. Surely it’s more forgiving. 

It takes Dan a while to notice Phil is jealous of the cactus. Largely because Dan is usually the jealous one, and he’s not used to seeing the ways it manifests in others. 

But Phil _is_ jealous— Dan thinks maybe he’s jealous that it’s still alive when all his own houseplants inevitably shrivel up, and maybe he’s jealous that Dan spends so much time browsing the internet for new articles of cactus care. But Phil doesn’t say so outright, because Phil rarely does. Still, he whines, “Dan… Daaaaaaan, c’mon!” whenever Dan is a little too deep into research, five tabs open and both he and the cactus sitting by the open window. Phil would join them, but there isn’t room. Maybe that’s the trouble. Maybe Dan could’ve just moved to a larger window. 

Dan’s going to get his own taste of jealousy today at the radio show, he knows. So he tries to brace for it, as though that will dampen the tightness in his gut and the clenching of his jaw. 

It’s so fucking stupid, to still get jealous like this sometimes. But if there’s anything he’s taken to heart already from therapy, it’s that sometimes emotions are just stupid. Sometimes they happen, and like a hiccup he just has to wait for it to stop. 

He already knows he’s gonna feel that jealous hiccup on the radio show because Mollie King will be stopping by for a short promo. And Phil and Mollie King in the same confined space, as rarely as it happens, always leads to jokes about them moving in together and other jokes that even he participates in while his blood runs erratically. 

It’s not Phil’s fault and it’s not Mollie’s fault, and again he knows… it’s just a stupid jealous hiccup. But that doesn’t mean he’s not going to be dreading the interaction all day. 

So he does what he can to prepare for it before they head into the studio. He takes a long shower, he doesn’t let himself feel guilty for spending a handful of hours playing _Skyrim_ , and he sits for a while under the open window with his cactus. Scrolling on his phone, breathing fresh air, feeling the sun on his skin. It’s nice. Phil heats up some leftover pizza from the night before and brings him two slices. 

“Wanna watch something?” Phil asks. 

“Maybe later, once we get back,” Dan says. He knows he’s gonna have to give his hair another once-over before they head to the studio, and the August heat makes the very thought insufferable. So he wants as much window time as he can get before that happens. 

Phil nods. “Okay, I guess I’ll go do some more research on a gaming channel setup.” 

“Mm-hmm,” Dan’s eyes are already back on his phone. 

“Enjoy your cactus,” Phil says with just a little bit of prickle in his tone, just a little bit of sulk. Dan almost doesn’t catch it. Phil’s out of the room by the time he does. 

In their uber on the way to the BBC, Dan tries to tease Phil about it. Because it’s on his mind, and he needs it to be off his mind if he’s going to be able to focus on the show. But he also doesn’t want the teasing to turn into a fight. Their fights have grown fewer and far between recently— they have less and less things to fight about now that Dan’s getting a better hold on his more volatile emotions and now that Phil has healthier places to funnel his worry. But still, Dan knows better than to provoke a fight before they’re live on air. 

“Philly, was that a little jealousy I detected earlier against Winston?” He pretends to hate that he allowed Phil to convince him to name his cactus that, but really how could he hate something so equal parts stupid and adorable? 

A hint of blush shows up on Phil’s high cheekbones, more evident than it might be on someone with skin less pale. “Shut up,” he says while leaning and knocking his shoulder against Dan’s. 

“Are the two of you gonna fight over me?” Dan laughs, an awful urge to tickle Phil overtaking him. But he wouldn’t dare; not here where the driver would see. Even their voices are low. “Look out, he’s got a mean streak with all those spikes. You don’t wanna see him angry.” 

“I can’t fight a cactus, Dan. It’s a perfect killing machine!” Phil’s laughter fades a bit as his brow creases, and he adds, “Besides, I don’t wanna win you in combat. You have to choose me.” Then he smiles like he’s joking, and the car has pulled up to the curb so Dan can’t even dissect what Phil means before they’re in the elevator and joined by others and the whirlwind of the BBC surrounds them. 

It doesn’t seem he’s let it go though, as a little more than halfway through the show Phil writes on the whiteboard while a song plays, “Draw an angry cactus,” and Dan wants to swear so badly but he’s trained himself not to do that within the building of his omniscient employer. 

He draws the bloody cactus. Phil looks satisfied enough. Dan’s relieved that the request is easy enough for viewers to assign as run-of-the-mill AmazingPhil weirdness. 

Of course all of Dan’s preparation to not feel uncomfortable when their guests arrive for their promo goes right out the window. Phil and Mollie are quick to bant about waiting on the other to move in; no one even bothers to joke about what Dan would do in this daydream. Irrationally, he _knows_ it’s irrational, he wants to pout about it all. 

But then he’s distracted, and his heartbeat is ringing in his ears for a different reason altogether than jealousy. 

It’s ringing in his ears because of the visceral fear he feels whenever he or Phil or someone says a little too much. 

Because Phil just said live on the fucking BBC Radio1, “What would you do, Mollie, if you thought that a boyfriend was paying more attention to a cactus than you?” and Dan swears his limbs go numb. 

He tries to neutralize his face before the camera catches it; he’s too late of course, the camera catches everything. He tries to joke with all the rest of them, deflection… deflection, “A unique problem,” he laughs. 

“I think I’d have to call it quits, guys.” Mollie offers, with a smile and a shrug. She’s effortlessly charming, going along with a bant she doesn’t know the half of. 

“Really?” Dan panics; he’s trying not to sound defensive but there’s a little bit of panic he feels that maybe they’ll see through it.

They all agree with her. They’re laughing, but they agree with her. 

“Even if it was an expensive cactus, it’s just…” Dan can feel sweat collecting under his multiple layers of black. There are too many eyes on him; there always are but goddamnit he’s hyperaware of them right now. “y’know… priorities.” 

Fortunately, they’re nearly done with the show. And Dan’s put on a performative persona through worse. They wrap up just fine, and when Phil asks, “You okay?” as they ride the elevator down, Dan looks at his own reflection in the shining doors and shrugs. 

“I don’t wanna talk about it here,” he says. “We’ll talk about it back at the flat.” He can see Phil nodding in his peripheral vision. 

It’s a quiet journey home. Dan spends it stewing in his own sour air. 

“I’m sorry,” Phil says sheepishly as soon as they shut the door of their apartment. “I thought it’d be funny.” 

Dan’s already halfway up the stairs. “You thought it’d be funny to casually out us live on the fucking BBC?” He turns towards the kitchen and bumps into the glass door for the eight millionth time. He yanks it open with more force than necessary. 

“That’s not what happened!” Phil says, pulling a glass from a cabinet which he leaves open. Dan wants to be further annoyed on top of all the annoyance he’s already built up, but then Phil fills the glass with water and hands it to him and Dan feels a tiny chunk of that annoyance fall to the ground. Can Phil just please be terrible long enough to have a freaking argument for once? 

“Then tell me what happened,” he says sharply, still annoyed because of the day in general. He takes a big gulp of the water because he hasn’t had nearly enough today and hands the glass back to Phil who takes a gulp of his own. 

“I dunno…” Phil runs a hand through his hair, frustrated. He pushes the fringe off his forehead into an attempt at a quiff. Dan has the urge to press his lips against that newly revealed skin, but the urge is quashed by the frustration that’s still flooding through him. “I thought it’d be better than joking about moving in with her again. It’d be shouting from the rooftops disguised as a sort of domestic qualm or a tiff. That I want you to pay attention to me instead of a bloody cactus because I love you, without having to _actually_ shout that from any rooftop because… we don’t do that.” 

“No,” Dan nods. “We decided years ago. We don’t do that.” 

“Right,” Phil nods with him. “I dunno, it just seemed like it had just enough plausible deniability… not _my_ boyfriend. Surely not. Just asking Mollie about a hypothetical boyfriend of hers.” 

“No one’s gonna take it that way and you know it. You _know_ that our audience heard Phil Lester say the word ‘boyfriend’ and immediately had a conniption.” 

“Look, I’m sorry,” Phil pulls him into a hug. Dan lets him, though he keeps his own arms at his side. “I didn’t think about it like that. It seemed harmless enough.” 

“I feel like sometimes I’m the only one that ever thinks about these things, Phil.” 

Phil runs his hands across Dan’s shoulder blades, down his spine. They’re quiet for a handful of minutes. They both don’t want to actually fight. They never do. 

“Wasn’t this supposed to be about something stupid like your cactus?” Phil says into the crook of Dan’s neck. Dan grits his teeth to keep from letting any sounds slip out that would reveal just how nice that feels. He’s not sure if he’s ready to not be mad at Phil anymore. He still feels a little ragged from how much adrenalin had been running through his veins in the studio. 

“It _was_ ,” Dan allows, “until you said ‘boyfriend’.” 

“So if I’d said, ‘Mollie, what would you do if a best bro was paying more attention to a cactus than to you?’ this whole row never would’ve happened?” 

Dan lets himself laugh. “Yeah, that woulda been fine!” 

“Noted, I won’t fuck up next time.” Phil presses his lips to Dan’s neck, and Dan’s decided he won’t be angry after all. So he lifts his arms to wrap around Phil as well. “I want to say ‘boyfriend’ eventually…” Phil says, his voice clearly hesitant. Dan feels a little rotten that he’s made Phil sound so hesitant. 

He pulls back from the hug a little, so that he can see Phil properly. “We’ll keep talking about it. I want that too. You know that.” 

“One thing at a time,” Phil nods. “We’re sellotaping your brain back together first off, then we’re doing the big scary career things, then we’re sorting out where and when and to whom we’re allowed to say ‘boyfriend’.”

Dan kisses him. “You’re pretty fancy with your ‘to whom’ Mr. English-Language-and-Linguistics-Degree.” 

They both laugh. The tension has been replaced; this is just them, this was just a spat. They’re good— 

They’re curled up in bed before Dan brings it up again. 

“I’m not falling asleep until you tell me why you’re jealous of a cactus,” he says, a tone as light as he can manage. “If I have to unpack my jealousy issues in therapy, you have to unpack yours in bed.” 

“I never agreed to that,” Phil baulks. 

“Spill, Lester.” 

“It’s stupid…”

“Of course it is. Out with it.” 

Phil sighs. “It’s stupid,” he says again, “I guess it’s just that… I tried to help you on bad days for years, and this cactus can just show up and can make you drink water and get fresh air and sit in the sun just by being a fucking plant.” He groans and lays on his back and throws his arm over his head. “It doesn’t make any sense, I know. But I guess, yeah, I’m jealous of a cactus taking better care of you than I could.” 

Dan really wants to laugh, but holds it in. “Phil,” he says, pulling Phil’s arm away from his eyes. “Phiiiil,” he draws out with a smile he hopes is soft instead of mocking. “I’m not doing better right now because of a plant! I’m doing better right now because everyone, because of you _and_ the doctors _and_ the plant _and_ myself. You’re my team.”

“I know—”

“—You help me all the time.” 

“I’m happy you’re letting other people help you,” Phil says. “That’s why I know the jealousy is stupid. I’m happy you’re in therapy, I’m happy you’re letting the doctor talk to you about meds. I’m happy you like taking care of Winston. I’m _happy_ that you don’t… like, _need_ me to help you. That you let me help you. That there’s a difference.” Phil slides his arms around Dan’s waist. “I guess I just, I want to help you as much as possible. Always… that’s our thing. We help each other.” 

“I thought our thing was codependency,” Dan laughs. He has to cut the tension somehow; Phil’s liable to make him cry if he lets him keep going. 

“Shut up. It’s semantics.” 

“There’s that sexy English Language degree talking again.” 

“Oh it’s sexy, is it?” Phil pulls him closer. 

“Course it is,” Dan says, a daring grin on his face, “Haven’t I said so before? A moron with a master’s degree, how did I get so lucky?”

“Mmm, true, I know all sorts of sexy words like…” Phil leans to Dan’s ear, “lexicon…” he bites at Dan’s earring, “inflectional morphemes…” he licks lobe to shell, “syntax…” Dan kisses him in an attempt to shut him up, but they’re both laughing their way through it and the kiss dissolves into pure proximity.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading— come say hi on [tumblr](http://yikesola.tumblr.com/post/184047846564/a-unique-problem) !


End file.
